She exclaimed in dismay as she and Roque swooped down to scoop him up and support him as he revived from his faint into one of the folding chairs. An uproar erupted from the onlookers behind them, the agitation building until Roque swung around and snapped something, then it died down.
Then he turned to her. “Fill four syringes with saline. Four-inch needles, 14-gauge.”
Inácio and Madeline jumped to fulfill his demand. There was no doubt they considered him their overall boss. Oh, well. Where was the surprise?
They were done in under a minute and handed him the demanded syringes. He handed them to her then led her by the hand outside where the rest of the villagers were warily fidgeting and loudly speculating on the disturbance.
He made sure he had everyone’s attention then he took off his shirt, looked down on her and murmured, “Do it to me.”
Her heart fired. She realized at once what he meant. But had he also meant the double entendre?
Her hands clutched the syringes, leashing in the emotions roaring through her.
He made a theatrical gesture to the gawking villagers and said something that she was sure meant, “Now I’ll show you how I take far bigger needles than the measly ones you’re so afraid of—with a smile.”
“Time to make an example out of you,” she murmured, holding his eyes as she took the cover off one needle. Then her gaze moved to his deltoid as she repeated the sequence she’d done with the young man. It was she who gasped when all the needle sank in. They were talking serious muscle mass here.
With her mouth drying, her eyes went up to his again as she injected the saline.
He only gave her a sweltering grin. “Ooh, do it again.”
She did, in his other arm. The third one went into his thigh. He offered his buttock for the fourth, arguing that the gluteal region was the optimum site for intramuscular injections. She opted for his other thigh instead. There was no way she was seeing or touching those steel hips.
Once she’d finished, he whistled. “What are these people afraid of? Yours is the lightest touch I ever had.” With that, he turned to the villagers, said something clearly challenging.
Going by the determination that flooded their gazes and stances, she could safely say that it had worked.
As they walked back inside, the young man who’d fainted pulled himself from his slouch, rose and approached her in resolute steps, offering her his arms.
She began administering one vaccine after another, ready to give any amount of soothing necessary at the first sign of discomfort. But the young man only bit down on his lip with each sting, never taking his eyes off Roque.
Roque had really gotten to him. To all of them.
Yeah, what else was new?
Four hours later, with the four of them working together, the whole village had been vaccinated.
As soon as the last mother and bawling child had left, Inácio threw himself down on his folding chair and sighed. “We owe you big, Roque. Before you somehow brought them here and proceeded with your leading-by-example trick, I had nightmares that we’d end up hunting down then wrestling with the six hundred and fifty-eight men, women and children here to give them their shots.”
Madeline disposed of the last syringes, turned around with an exuberant smile. “Yeah. This ‘do it to yourself first and dare them into taking it as boldly as you took it’ sure worked.”
Roque smiled back as he came to stand in front of Jewel. “Seems I did my part.” He took her hands in a gentle grip. “How about doing yours?”
She pulled her hands from between his as if he’d burned her, words tumbling out. “As if you helped us in return for my assistance in the afternoon list!”
“I didn’t? Why did I, then?”
“Because you’re a big softie and you’d do everything if you could be in multiple places simultaneously. As for me, assisting you isn’t payback. It’s a reward and a huge learning opportunity. Anyone would pay to assist you. Now I know why medical people the world around do just that, and pay big time.”
In answer, there was only this still look in his eyes as he followed her out of the tent and to their makeshift OR. And something else. Disappointment?
Yeah, sure. She was only seeing her own emotions reflected in his eyes.
But there had been only truth in her words when she’d told him how much she loved working with him. And for the next four days, as they stayed in Manis, and for the remainder of the projected eight weeks of their expedition, there would be plenty of that. It would have to be enough.
Jewel had had enough.
Something had to happen or she’d shatter with the building pressure. Mercifully, something was about to happen.
They were finally leaving Manis.
Workwise, their stay had been a success by all measures.
They’d examined the whole tribe, run every relevant test on all who’d needed them, administered treatments and vaccinations, done dozens of surgical procedures and followed them up, done tutorials about all possible diseases, physical and otherwise, that modern men could bring. And she’d loved each and every moment she’d spent doing all of the above. With Roque.
And the evenings spent among the generous tribe had been fantastic. The females had flocked around her and Madeline, unable to get enough of examining the gold that was Madeline’s hair, the pieces of sky in her eyes. They found Jewel as mesmerizing even if her coloring wasn’t as exotic to them. Mostly they were awed by her height. And far more so by her man’s, as they referred to Roque. As everyone referred to him.
That had only made things worse. For he wasn’t her man. He was just… just… She had no idea what he was, what he wanted to be. Or what she wanted him to be.
Then had come the nights. She’d known nights filled with pain, despair and isolation. Nothing else had ever felt like that.
She’d spent those nights with Madeline in the hut of a fatherless family. Their hostesses had been delighted and delightful but they could have been torturing her for all the enjoyment she’d derived from their company and attention. She’d spent the hours till dawn aching in oppression and frustration.
And now they were at last returning to their boats to head to their next destination. Once on board, would he…?
Her thoughts shattered at the sight of men running, converging on them, wielding spears and blowguns, quivers swinging on their backs. That sure didn’t look like a farewell party, more like a hunting one. What was going on?
Madeline sauntered towards her. “Of all the chauvinistic rubbish! They’re going hunting and no women allowed!”
Inácio came to stand beside them. “No one allowed, Maddy. This is their most sacred hunt, to bring sacrifices to thank their gods—this time for bringing us here. It’s a privilege and responsibility reserved for the Manis warriors.”
“But Roque is going,” Madeline complained. “Since when did he become a Manis warrior?”
“Roque is the leader of those they’re thanking their gods for,” Inácio supplied with a complacent insider’s attitude. “Nothing less could have made them transgress their tribal laws. And he won’t be allowed to join the hunt or wield a weapon. Just accompanying them is their highest honor.”
Roque going out there in the jungle where boa constrictors and jaguars roamed? Unarmed?
She didn’t think so.
“You’re not going hunting.”
Jewel’s whisper struck Roque’s every sensitized nerve. He swung around. He was way beyond the end of his tether and almost afraid of the moment he had her alone. He forced himself under control, smiled. “I’m not, amor. I’m going to watch.”
“That’s even worse. And you’re not doing it.”
Could it possibly be she was worried about him? He savored the pleasure of the fantasy as he said, “I’m a big boy. Very big. Even a jaguar wouldn’t pick me to maul to death, Jóia. And I can’t not go. It would be too great an insult.”
“Fine. Then I’ll go with you.”
; His heart swelled. She was worried about him, thought there was danger out there and wouldn’t let him go alone into it!
He struggled to articulate anything, his voice alien in his own ears when he did, quavering with elation. “It may be ridiculous to us, but women aren’t allowed on hunts here.”
“I’m not a woman.”
The ridiculously far-fetched assertion brought a guffaw tearing from his gut. “Jóia, if you were any more of a woman I would have died of a feminine overdose long ago. I’m constantly teetering on the brink as it is.”
Her golden eyes flared that lethal womanliness. “I’m not a woman here, I’m the leader, too. And that’s why you’re going.”
With that she swung around, dragged Montoya in her wake, swooped down on the tribe’s elders and had him scrambling to translate what an insult it would be for them to leave her out of this, that they were honor-bound to respect their culture.
All through he watched, rapt.
He wouldn’t have believed he could get more delighted with her, this assertive, addictive Amazon that she’d become. But he was. And he loved it. And her…?
No. Love had been an illusion and it was in the past. This hunger, this was real, this was here and now. And at the first moment possible, he was going to assuage it.
Jewel felt nauseous.
Not only because she was about to witness an animal being slaughtered but also because she’d dropped her last shield.
The panic that had suffocated her at the thought of Roque in danger had forced a devastating admission that had left her insides exposed. She was falling in love with him.
Falling? Still struggling for a survival strategy, wasn’t she? Like she’d been doing since she’d first seen him.
She’d long fallen. Utterly. Irrevocably. And it hurt.
Something inside her, blindly hopeful, kept pleading, What could be better than to fall in love with your own husband?
Everything else answered, What could be worse?
She couldn’t be his wife. Even if he wanted her to be.
Which he didn’t. Thank God. For him. For her, she had no idea how she would survive the pain—if she could survive it…
A movement mercifully suspended her desperate thoughts. The prey was in sight. And it had to be a deer, didn’t it?
The whitetail deer lowered its head to nibble at some leaves. Pity swelled in her gut. Heaven knew, she was no vegetarian, but witnessing the extermination of a life! But she couldn’t have let Roque come alone. The jungle had too many dangers. She had to make sure he was safe, in her sights, within her reach. She now reached back for him and—he wasn’t there.
She swung around, her frantic eyes slamming around the dense forest.
She’d lost him.
Like the damned idiot she was, she’d wandered off in a fugue and lost him.
She had to find him, fast. She’d clutch him to her side this time, keep him with her, safe…
A spear hurtled out of nowhere from the periphery of her vision, missing the deer. As it bolted, a storm of spears followed it, going wide.
Then she heard Roque’s roar.
Panic detonated in her head. It congealed her blood, filled her lungs, spurted from her eyes and mouth.
Roque. Spears impacting him, ripping his flesh, crushing his boness Roque, in so much agony he prayed for the mercy of instant deathslike she’d once prayeds A shriek rent her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“JEWEL—Jewel!”
Roque heard the crazed shouts, barely recognized that they were issuing from him.
He’d focused on the deer for seconds and had turned to find Jewel gone. The same moment they’d started throwing spears.
Dread had erupted on a bellow for them to stop. Then her shriek had torn through him and the images that had deluged his mind…! Jewel—her precious body ripped and broken, again…
Deus, Deus—no, no, no.
He hadn’t dropped dead only because he had to get to her, save her.
“Jewel.” He bellowed again as he bounded on the stony ground, each thud threatening to dismantle him bone from bone. Then he cleared a thick thatch of ferns and saw her, standing, staggering, just twenty feet away. He had no voice left to scream her name, no mind to process the panic. Only momentum took him to her, made him turn her with flailing hands and crazed eyes—and he almost keeled over. She was uninjured.
And she launched herself at him, her weeping only intensifying as she smothered it in his chest.
Deus, what could he do? If only there was a threat to fight, to protect her, to stem her anguish. And what had brought it on? What was wrong? It wasn’t like her to fall apart like that. Or was it? What did he really know about her?
Plenty. In the lifetime of the last three weeks he’d come to know her, the new her, better than he’d ever known anyone. So what traumas did she harbor that could make her react that way?
“Meu amor, I implore you, look at mes” He tried to loosen her hold, to bring her face up, and her fingers turned to talons, digging frantically into him.
His throat closed on thorns, and tears, unknown all but once, at his mother’s deathbed, forced their way through his eyes.
He crushed her to him, warding off the world. “Nothing can touch you, amor. I’m here and I’m never leaving yous” He gestured to the milling tribesmen to leave them, to take away the deer’s carcass, removing further provocation from her sight.
She finally stopped shuddering and whimpering, stood limp and quiescent within the cloak of his body. And he had to face it. Why her distress destroyed him, why her desertion nearly had. What he’d known from the first time he’d seen her.
Whether she wanted him, wanted him for a while or didn’t want him at all, he was hers. For life. And probably beyond.
“I’m sorry.”
Her tremulous words jolted through him. He moved away just enough to look down at her, scared she’d spiral back into anguish if he loosened his hold.
She moved, too, sniffed again. “I’m sorry.”
He pressed her back to his heart in relief. “Don’t be, you’re all right now.” Urgent fingers beneath her chin raised her face to his to make sure of his verdict. Tension rushed out at seeing her eyes clear again, at least of the terror that had tainted them. They were puffy and slumberous and he couldn’t believe they had the power to arouse him to that pitch even now.
A ragged sigh escaped her and she rested her head on his heart again. “You must think I’m a nutcase.”
“Why would I think you’re a case of nuts?”
Her eyes snapped to his, startled. Then she laughed. Deus, she laughed.
He stroked her cheek, absorbed the inner exquisiteness that had always been her power over him. He needed to know what had provoked her panic. But he’d go to his grave content never to know. He couldn’t risk stirring up her turmoil again.
She rubbed her face over his chest, still chuckling, and his heart tried to burst out of its confines to get a direct rub of her velvet cheek. “Now you must think I’m really fit for a strait-jacket.” She beamed up at him. “Howling like a wounded wolf one minute and a demented hyena the next.”
His smile shook on his lips as he rasped, “If you promise no more howls like the first one, howl like the second any time.”
She leaned back in his arms, her hand and eyes wavering over his face. “I couldn’t find you, then I heard you shout, thought they’d hit you—Oh, Roque…”
So all this had been fear for him? Could it be?
He found it hard to believe it had all been about him. So maybe something had triggered her—
Suddenly realization crushed down on him. Her accident. That had to be it. Her fear of him being accidentally injured, even killed must have resurrected her near-death experience. And he’d wondered what trauma she’d harbored! How insensitive and stupid and oblivious could he be?
“Did you—did it bring back your—your accident?” He could almost have cut his tongue off for putting his d
oubts into words.
Her eyes widened, as if she, too, hadn’t made the connection. Her words were slow and ponderous when she said, “No. I’m long over that. I remember so clearly what streaked in my mind during those moments—there were images of every injury I’ve seen and treated, imagining them happening to yous” She shuddered, clung to him harder, her fingers kneading agitated patterns into his chest muscles. “I never cried like this. Not when I thought I might never walk again, or when constant pain made me wish I’d die and get it over with. Not even when everything I had and was, had gone and I knew no one would even notice if I followed.”
Agony clamped his chest, kicked in his back. Was he having a heart attack? It wouldn’t be strange. For how could his heart withstand that insight into the depth of her ordeal? Knowing that he’d been there, at the height of her need, and hadn’t grasped it, hadn’t done anything about it?
But he’d tried everything he could. And she’d refused it!
And it shouldn’t have stopped him. He should have made her take his strength when she’d had none, and no one.
But he had done that. He’d pushed aside her protests, loved her, married her so he could be her strength and support.
When it had been much too late, when the damage had already carved its indelible scars in her soul. What a fool he’d been.
She turned in his arms, smoothed his drenched shirt. “I drowned you. Who needs a tropical shower with me around, huh?”
“I’d drown in your tears—I’d drown for real, if it would make you feel better, amor. I’m yours to do with as you please.”
Moisture appeared in her eyes again, shimmered in the rays of sunshine streaming through the canopy of foliage high above them. But her smile trembled on lips beginning to flush with returning vigor and equilibrium. “Oh, darling, thank you for saying that!”
Darling. She’d never called him that, never assuaged his starving heart with endearments. His heart clamped an obsessive fist around this one, hoarding it for fear there’d be no more.
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